VISIONCRAFT
by ArlkatThePillowfighter
Summary: This is not a fanfiction, technically. It is a completely different universe, with completely different characters that I made up. I hope you like it, though...


**SORRY ABOUT... WHATEVER THAT WAS. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HAPPENED.**

You rub your head, being careful of your fragile horns as you run your claws over the sore spot. Something hit you, and it must have been hard enough to knock you out.

You look around at the dry blue grass and the teal-coloured sky, and come to the conclusion that you have returned to Alternia. You haven't been here in a very long time. You briefly remember that trip to the Prophet, and shake your head. He was half-mad, Dorian. You needn't listen to his craziness.

You remember your insanely large bounty here, and decide that if it is to be your final journey, you shall make it count. You sigh, standing and brushing off your dark violet Taurinite monk's robe.

A single footstep you hear behind you, as if someone just noticed you were there. A young male's voice forces itself upon your feathery ears, increasing your headache.

"Who are you, stranger?"

You turn around slowly, hands on your horns to show that you mean no harm. The troll can't be more than thirteen sweeps, wielding a long broadsword. It looks to be Alternian military-grade, a few years out of date. His raven's hair is buzzed on one side, flowing jaggedly to his right shoulder. His large goatlike horns sweep back almost elegantly, curving to wicked sharp points. He glares at you, curious, with deep red eyes. "State your business."

You smile kindly. "I am the Healer, here to free the trapped souls under tyrannical reign."

A spark of recognition lights his eyes. "I have heard of you. You have a large bounty waiting for you at the Palace." A bounty that he strives to collect, no doubt.

You shrug, blinking slowly to permeate trust.

He steps closer, raising the point of the blade to your throat. "I'm turning you in. Come with me."

"Turn me in if you wish, but you are no better than Her if you do. I seek nothing more than peace, young Paladin."

"This planet is under Her jurisdiction. I am a knight under her forces."

"You do not have to be. And I sense that you already know this - one does not allow her warriors to fight with outdated weapons."

The tip of his blade lowers a bit, and his eyes narrow.

"You are perceptive, Healer. I quit sweeps ago. But I need that bounty."

"She will kill you on the spot for abandoning the force. My purpose is to unite the hemospectrum, to create universal peace. I have seen bountiful other worlds, and many of those accept and live by my will of unity. Join us."

You extend your hand, and the lime scar across your palm gleams as your eyes do. He shakes it quite hesitantly, but shakes it nonetheless.

"I will accompany you… on your journey."

You smile once again. Being a Mahoganyblood, this troll would want nothing more than justice and rights.

"Thank you, young Paladin."

A pure white raven with gleaming cinnamon eyes swoops down from the trees, landing a few feet away and cawing loudly.

"What is that bird?" The Paladin asks, eyeing it curiously.

"A raven. Omen and harbinger of death."

"Let us follow it."

"I am starting to take a liking to you."

The raven caws once again, flying a few yards northeast at a time until it leads you over the crest of a hill. You see a large, shabbily-constructed stadium, and the sounds of cheering and the smell of fresh blood assault your senses.

The raven leads you close, right up to the doors. You peer through a crack, seeing two trolls locked in battle that clearly look like they don't want to be fighting. Ochre and Olive blood drench the ground, walls, and players.

You will them to break apart, stop fighting, and they do. They stay at opposite sides of the arena for roughly thirty seconds before a large rock, about the size of her head, is hurled at the Ochreblood. It hits her horn, snapping two-thirds of it off easily, and she goes down clutching at the base. She screams in agony, and the panicking Oliveblood glances up at the stands before lunging at her defenseless form.

You burst through the doors, throwing one off the top hinge. "STOP!" You howl.

The Oliveblood looks genuinely surprised, halting and twitching his long ears behind his large geartoothed horns.

"Stop this madness!" You continue, looking up at the caped Blueblood you know well. He holds another rock, poised to hurl it at your face.

"Who are you?" He booms, clearly not having remembered the face of his rival organization years past.

"I am the Healer! I have come to liberate these lost spirits from unfair oppression and domination!" You have every troll's attention as the ashen raven lands on your curved horn.

"Alternians! Hear me speak. You judge these trolls by something they cannot control: their blood color. This-" You gesture to the arena, the blood. "-may be entertaining to you, but do you see any Umberbloods in the stands? Jadebloods? All i see in your eyes is blue and purple. I do not call you cruel, no. I call you something worse, and much more true: guilty." You make eye contact with an Indigoblood in the stands, and he looks down. "You are guiltier than these trolls, who have not even been tried. You are guiltier than I. I have not been given rhyme nor reason nor trial, but I have a high bounty on my head for speaking words of truth, words of kindness to those 'beneath' me. I have done this not for myself, but for all of you. You would not believe these words if I were a so-called 'mudblood', but as of highly-respected greenblood caste these words ring true, do they not? I have seen things far different than just respected Mahoganybloods - I have seen societies turned upside-down and taken over by bloodthirsty Ochrebloods, sick and tired of being treated this way. I have seen Violetbloods and even Fuschiabloods - enslaved. I beg of you - do not let this happen to our sacred Alternia! I was born here, I shall die here, but not now. Not like this."

Silence. Bitter, shameful silence.

You look up at the Blueblood. He opens his mouth - and a sharp, jagged laugh cuts through the stadium. Trolls stare in disbelief as he guffaws at your speech. But they do not dare interfere.

"Ha! Ha, ha, ha! I am the High Democrat. I may do as I please with the pissblood and the other, as they are of a lower blood caste than I. Colonel!" He shouts, and a large Cobaltblooded troll almost literally appears at his side.

"Kill them." He orders.

You barely have time to register his words before the steely-eyed troll launches himself from the box, arms out with dual blue scythes serving as extensions of his arms.

"Run!" You shout, a tad unnecessarily as the three trolls sprint after you almost on instinct.

The Cobaltblood roars, and time seems to slow momentarily as the scythe whistles a hair's breadth from your ear before burying its tip in the hard soil.

You run faster.

After running for what seems like miles, your comrades come to a stop about sixty metres from what looks to be an endless forest.

"We should seek refuge." The Paladin points out.

You nod before turning to the two rescued trolls. "What are your names?"

The gear-horned troll answers first. "I am the Architect."

"The Warrior." The other grumbles.

You smile. "As I previously stated, I am the Healer. This young fellow here is the Paladin."

They nod, clasp their palms together in greeting.

The raven, you notice, has followed your group. It hops down from your horn, landing on the ground before growing before your very eyes. It becomes the size of a tall troll, folding its wings before darkening and becoming a spiky-haired troll with obvious heteroformia ceratum. He has long, tusk-like fangs and wears an Etherium naval uniform.

"You neglected to introduce your traveling companion, the Creator."

Despite his awkward fangs, he doesn't seem to have any trouble speaking, but he does so with an accent you have not heard in a very long time.

"Magnificent shapeshifting." You really have to hand it to him - he's obviously experienced.

He flops his big ears with a laugh. "Thanks, Healer."

His linguistics are of a completely different dialect to the others, but you just bare your fangs in a grin.

The Warrior is not impressed. "We must get moving." She hisses, jabbing at him with her makeshift weapon - her severed horn.

"I agree." The Paladin mumbles, already heading towards the forest. You shrug once again, trailing behind the others with the Creator.

"I hear you speak and I think of Kusaida." You say, attempting to switch into the old tongue you haven't felt in sweeps.

"Yep. That's where I was hatched, and where I have never returned. But I do recognize you from my days there, the troll that brought justice to our small society."

"It took a long time to find your hideout - the alien life forms there are all very odd and hostile towards differing species. Luckily I had been much younger, and my horns were easily hidden under a hood. You say you recall my presence?"

He smiles a bit. "I do. Being the young 2 sweeps that I was, I hadn't known right from wrong. A rogue traveler who soon became the messiah of our civilization set me straight as I had attempted to go out into their world."

Recognition dawns upon you. "The little fudgeblood I found attempting to drink the blood of that human?"

"It's more of an orange, horn-colored." He manages to snicker with his tusks in the way.

"That was many sweeps ago. And yet you look not a sunfall over 15."

"Shapeshifter."

You reach the forest as he speaks, and you see a group of cosplaying trolls swishing around in their 3D maneuvering devices wearing green hoods. You smile, remembering your own days of play. They move on, and you enter the forest. The Creator begins chatting with the Paladin, and you are left to mull over your own thoughts silently.

Perhaps you stand a chance against Her after all. You have almost half of the spectrum on your side, all you need are two more castes and you could theoretically overthrow Her tyranny very diplomatically.

Something swishes behind you, setting you on edge. You turn, but see nothing.

The Warrior crouches, stopping in her tracks. "I smell troll."

"Do not fear - I come in peace."

A Tealblood emerges in front of the group, large heart-shaped horns curving over his head and dark hair swept across his brow. His large, kind eyes and single set of fangs give him the look of an anime, and he wears a long black coat and a teal-patterned bodysuit with black boots. His voice, while smooth, holds an undertone of something darker and invisible.

"I am the Listener."

You introduce the group, and he smiles, nodding. "Yes, I know who you are." You notice his eyes rarely leave your person, and his smile unnerves you. But, it is another blood caste, and you do need it.

"Come with me. I imagine you need shelter - you have traveled a long way."

After short nods from everyone he leads the group through the forest, eventually coming to a stop outside of a magnificent treehouse. A literal tree-house, made out of a huge blueleaf that seems to be stories high. He brings you inside, gives everyone separate rooms encompassing three whole floors, and tells you all to meet back in the dining hall at sundown for a meal. As you explore your room, rubbing some dirt off your horns in the one-way visual refractor pane, you hear three scrapes on the door. You open it, surprised to find the Listener smiling with a second set of fangs poking out the edges of his mouth.

"Greetings." You nod, slightly unnerved by the appearance of more fangs. You don't have a single set, and that means you are not a battletroll.

He blinks slowly, dipping his head a bit. "Accepted. May I enter?"

"You may." You consent curiously and cautiously.

You step aside, holding the door open as customary. He continues smiling, large teal eyes still holding kindness. "I was under the assumption you had a reason for venturing into the Boundless Coppice. I came to collect understanding."

Your head shakes itself, attempting to understand the almost ancient Alternian dialect he uses. "My apologies - would you mind upgrading your vernacular to something more recent, that I might interpret with more refinement?"

Something flashes in his eyes, just briefly. "Of course, friend. I took you as older than you must be."

"I must seem very young to a being of your magnitude."

He laughs. "Ah, we are moving off the topic. What is your mission, Healer?"

You twist half of your mouth into something the Creator reminded you of, that you had not expressed in a while. The Listener seems perplexed. "Obviously I seek complete hierarchy of Fuchsia and Violetbloods and the destruction of all Mutantbloods and Limebloods, who could theoretically overthrow them."

His confusion grows. "But you yourself are a Limeblood. Why do you say such things?"

Your 'smirk', as it is called, grows wider. "I do not mean them. It is something the newer societies use, something called sarcasm. It is the use of irony to mock or convey contempt."

Understanding lights his eyes. "So… You mean to say you do not wish for hierarchy?"

"I wish for exactly the opposite, my friend."

"You must have been to a lot of places to pick up this odd accent, and these unusual terms and concepts."

"I have. I personally enjoy Etherium, with all its candy-red blooded natives."

"You must tell me about this Etherium sometime. But for now I think I shall question the Creator." He makes for the door, and you shape a diamond with the index finger and thumb of both hands. He returns the motion, sealing your Moirallegiance with a smile before disappearing.

END CHAPTER ONE.


End file.
